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Age: 8
Bruce was small when he saw his parents first fight, and as he grew it was a normal occurrence that the two fought about money and work. Then these fights became violent with a swing here or there. But they soon became something that Bruce was use to also. He saw the way his father drank and his mother looked wary. He caught on that the drunker his father was the worse it was for him to be in playing sight. His mother was always so brave taken the punches for him, but soon she couldn't do that, and Bruce had to take his own punishment like a 'big boy' his father's words from the first beating he received at age eight.
The first beating made an impact that not only was he small and powerless, but that his brave mother had the same issue. The bruises he received were well hidden and when his father hit a little to high above his collared shirt foundation was applied.
"The bruises will soon fade and the scars will become much easier to bare" his mother said to him as he cried. "You have to be a big boy, your father loves you, but you have to do what he says or you will be punished" she answered when he asked why she didn't stop 'daddy.' Bruce was bright for his age, but he was still eight and craved love, so when he was beaten he didn't think nothing other than it was his fault. The pain he felt was because he didn't listen to his father. When Bruce looked back and thought of this he couldn't tell whether his mother was just to tired to protect him anymore or hated him for not being strong enough to protect her.
After the beatings started they became a daily event in his life, when his father would get home from working a long shift and drinking most of his money away. In that first year things were changing so fast. Bruce's father getting more violent and mother sicker. With ever angry blow from his father, and nasty word from his mother Bruce stilled loved them. Little Bruce still loved his mother and father unconditionally. His innocent shadowing his vision to see that his parents were intentionally brutal. He didn't see her tired words and father's blows as anything but in the moment. He would shake it off and come back eager to do anything for their love, because he loved them so much.
As Bruce looked back he still loved his parents unconditionally. He could only ever remember them fight. He could only every remember his father getting mad at him and him being beaten for punishment, so it must have been his fault. His mother letting it happen after she couldn't take it, because he didn't try to protect her, so why should she protect him. This twisted and wrong logic made sense to a battered and broke Bruce who knew nothing but what had been beaten into him for so long.
Bruce looked into his parent's bedroom to see his mother's pale, thin, and sickly figure.
"Mom?"
"come here Bruce. How was your day?"
Bruce ran to the bed and cuddled with his sick mother. His child instinct wanting a mother's comfort, but she only ever let him hold her hand now. The memory of the two hugging fuzzy for the eight year old. Six months before she had been alright. She had been full of life, and father easier to tame, but suddenly she felt sick. It turned into weekly hospital visits and pharmacy trips. She wasn't getting any better.
"mom dad keeps hurting me and the teacher said that she could help-"
"what! Have you been telling people!?" she looked scared and anger.
"no, but I could and we can be safe" Bruce tried pleading with her.
"He loves you, but Bruce you make it so hard on him. You have to try harder at sports and less time in school" she snapped. "you make it hard on both of us to see hear how you aren't active with other students."
"Yes mother, I'm sorry for talking to my teacher"
"It's ok, bit this is our family secret."
Bruce Banner had always been a smart man, and as a child he was a sponge that wanted to soak up knowledge, but also intuitive. Banner was a young child when he learned his family was different. He noticed other children to have parents who weren't wary or violent. When other kids talked about their punishments it didn't leave jagged scares on there body.
Bruce Banner was a child who craved the chance to learn. He ached to answer and question everything he was taught. Bruce learned quickly that any attention was bad attention. His mother made him promise to try to blend in and not be so smart.
"Can you try and not be so smart" she begged.
He did just that. He worked hard to be a ok student. It helped him blend into the backgound, no one would notice him or his bruise if he hid in playing sight.
Three months later she died. Her body to weak to fight leaving two men who didn't understand each other.
The funeral was short and Bruce Banner stood by the door saying thank you. His father had left after breaking a few plates with some of the other men. He was trying to be the brave for his mother now. They all walked by smiling politely but not really looking at Bruce's big innocent and pained eyes as they left. They had been ignoring the bruises and cries of pain for over a year now. Why start now. Once everyone was gone he cleaned up and went to his room. All day he hadn't cried. He had been polite and helpful even comforting, but he hadn't had the chance to grieve. Now he laid in bed and sobbed until his pillow until his heart ached and head throbbed. When he stopped he went to his parents room and snuggled in her favorite blanket and pillow.
"what the hell are you doing in here?!"
"I'm sorry sir! I just miss her" Bruce cried.
"Stop crying. I don't want you talking about her! I don't want you looking af her pictures! And I don't want you touching her stuff! It's all your fault that she died! If she hadn't had such a stupid and useless kid. She would have been alive!"
"Dad" Bruce whispered looming confused and broken.
Slap!
The force threw Bruce's small body.
"you piece of shit. I'm not you father"
"yes sir. I'm sorry sir"
"get to your room"
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